Up The Road

Chapter 4

Harry dreamt.

It wasn\'t a pleasant dream, though Harry couldn\'t remember a time lately that he\'d had pleasant dreams, unless he counted the ones that were rather more involved - the ones with Draco in them, where they were together. Even then, the dreams had been a little off, making Harry feel uncomfortable, thinking of Draco that way. Added to that was the surroundings that always encompassed them: just dark, and halls and things that gave new depth and terror to the idea of shadows.

As he slept, he could still somehow feel his hand curling around the sheets, gripping it tightly as if to steady himself.

This was a new dream, filled with falling and sharpness and fear. He felt trapped, alone, unable to move. He hated this feeling, and he had to get out. He saw a door, one that held hissing behind it. He shook, knowing it would be a bad door. Yet his hand was already on it, and he looked down. It wasn\'t his hand. The hand was too pale, too sickly-looking almost.

And then it hit him: it was Draco\'s hand.

He passed through the door where the hiss became a roar, and the blackness behind him overwhelmed all his sensations, until he was falling and screaming and wishing there\'d been a way out...

\"Harry?\" asked a voice, and Harry could feel someone shaking him. It sounded like Ron, and maybe one other person, looking down at him. \"You all right?\" added Ron, once he could somehow see that Harry was awake enough to recognise voices.

Harry opened his eyes. \"Yes, I\'m fine, Ron,\" he answered, trying to still his own frightened shaking. The dream had seemed so real, but he could tell that he was back in his dorm, safe for the time being. He felt better already, though his vision was hazy, and not just due to his lack of glasses while sleeping.

Ron looked worried. Harry could see another person-shaped blob next to him: Neville. Both seemed concerned, and Harry gave a laugh, one that he didn\'t feel at all but knew would get him alone again. As predicted, Ron smiled in response and Neville gave a half-hearted grin.

\"I\'m really okay,\" said Harry. \"See?\" he asked as he waved his arms. \"No puncture wounds.\"

\"Puncture wounds?\" asked Neville. Harry could see that the round-faced wizard was already working himself up over all the possible ways to get puncture wounds, even though they were up in one of the highest towers at Hogwarts.

\"Nevermind, nevermined,\" said Harry in a hurry. \"Just go back to sleep.\"

Neville seemed unsure, but with a friendly pat from Ron, he was persuaded to return to bed. Harry lay back down, letting his smiled disappear as he pondered his dream.

It was almost as if he\'d been Draco. The surrounding blackness, he realised, had been behind him all the time, pushing and poking him as if into a corner, until he did what the darkness wanted. There really hadn\'t been any other choice.

So now Harry realised what Draco had been going through. But who had done the poking? And why did Draco seem to be regretting it? Harry had to admit to himself that he was surprised Voldemort would take on Draco as a pupil or fellow Death Eater, but if he had, then Harry assumed the Dark Lord would keep an eye on the blonde wizard. Yet Draco seemed free.

It didn\'t make sense.

Harry got up, unable to sleep. Light was already beginning to pour through the castle, and Harry knew it would soon be time for breakfast. He dressed and cleaned himself before heading down, taking care not to let Filch notice him as he walked and thought some more.

\"I\'ve got no other choice.\"

Draco\'s voice reverberated through his head. He, Harry, had basically shrugged off the other boy, feeling disgusted that Draco would ever consent to such a thing as being marked. And by Voldemort, of all things. He could see Draco\'s father wanting him to wear a family crest, but that was removable. The Dark Mark was there forever. Harry knew this for a fact now. In his lessons with Snape, he\'d been allowed to look at the mark, especially as it burned, when Snape had fallen to the floor once. Harry was so shocked to see his Potions master on the floor that he didn\'t do anything for a while, ignoring the hisses and the spitting coming from Snape\'s mouth just before the Slytherin professor passed out. It was only then that Harry dared to come closer and lift the sleeve to see where the mark he knew to be there was located.

It had only looked like burnt skin until Harry had focused more intently, forcing his eyes to see the different lines and curls that made up the figure of a snake through a skull. It was one of the eeriest things he\'d seen.

And just then, Snape had woken up and eyed him warily as he stepped back. Neither spoke of the event, but Snape knew that Harry knew just what he was enduring. After all, Harry had a much more sensitive mark all his own, located on his forehead. Something that he suspected burned twice as much as any summoning.

Harry knew what it was like. He could see why Draco would want to be away from such a thing, but he still couldn\'t wrap his mind around why Draco would have agreed - or, failing that, have been forced - into receiving the Dark Mark. It wasn\'t like the Draco Harry\'d known for so long. It was true that they\'d spent most of that time fighting, but there was also a depth there, Harry realised now: an understanding. And he found himself wanting to deepen it.

This can wait till later, he thought to himself. Then, in the same mental breath, he remembered that he usually had to go see Snape at night. He still wasn\'t sure what Draco was supposed to teach him, but he did know he\'d have to go back tonight. How else would he resolve this? How else would he understand Draco?

+++

Harry\'s lessons went by in a whir. All he could think about was how he would be seeing Draco again that night. Alone.

It had been awkward enough seeing the blonde during classes. Draco had been surreptiously avoiding him, it seemed, as one does a kettle if they\'ve been burned by its heat. Have I really burned him, though? wondered Harry.

The thought didn\'t stay long in Harry\'s mind. He could see Draco, up at the front of the classroom, fidgeting more than ever before. It was as if he could tell that Harry was watching him, eyes burning into the back of his head. Harry almost expected him to say something. He could see that Draco was clearly thinking up a witty remark, or a scathing insult, or something else along similar lines. Yet Draco said nothing, choosing instead to walk out of the classroom with his usual cronies in tow.

Harry felt cheated. Hermione seemed preoccupied in yet another fight that she was having with Ron over house elves, and for once, Harry felt grateful to his red-headed friend. Without Ron, Harry knew he\'d be facing a barrage of questioning about why Draco had looked how he\'d looked or why Harry was staring after him. She\'d probably also be wondering why he was walking faster to catch up, as well as hiding behind a statue and listening as Draco waved his buddies up ahead, looking backwards at where Harry could only assume Draco thought he was (as opposed to where he actually was, which was a few meters to the side, behind a now-giggling statue). The thing that would have sent her eyebrows sky-rocketing was Harry sneaking out one hand and pulling Draco towards him, so that both were pulled behind a statue that was oddly quiet despite its earlier sniggering, as if listening for them.

Harry eyed the axe the statue was holding and felt sick. But then Draco was looking at him with his amazing eyes and Harry had a new problem: trying to form coherent words.

\"I, uh...\" he began.

Draco moved in, cutting off Harry\'s retreat, forcing their gazes together. \"Shh, Potter. You\'re not very good at words.\"

Harry glared. He wished he could get past the taunts Draco threw at him, but it was so hard to ignore sometimes. \"You think you\'re so great,\" he hissed, still keeping the nosy statue in mind, who might have reported him to Dumbledore if he were any louder. \"But you\'re not. You\'re just Draco Bloody Malfoy with that stupid thing on your arm and-\"

\"I said shut up,\" hissed Draco back just as strongly before pushing Harry back against the wall, pressing their bodies together in a way that shocked Harry into quiet. It also sent shivers of excited energy through Harry, which he could see was also the case for Draco.

It was risky, kissing right there. Harry could hear other students passing by, though they got to be fewer and fewer as Draco\'s tongue got more demanding. Harry felt heady: he didn\'t know when Draco had gained the upper hand - or maybe Draco had always had the upper hand - but he didn\'t mind it much, if it meant personal snogging lessons in semi-private areas.

Harry\'s own private area was becoming embarrassingly responsive. Draco was rubbing against him and there was no stopping him now, Harry could see. So he closed his eyes and gave over, noticing the way Draco kept his attention, kissing a different way each time, making sure that Harry\'s fingers on one hand were clamped tightly to the mark.

Harry didn\'t know why it was important that he touch the mark, but Draco let go whenever he didn\'t, so he squeezed tighter and Draco began to moan, right into his mouth. Harry found himself returning the moan, his erection hard to ignore, straining against his trousers.

Draco rubbed harder and Harry wished that he didn\'t have so many clothes on. It was asking for too much if they began stripping, Harry knew, though the more reckless, daring part of his brain didn\'t really care. All he wanted was to feel Draco\'s body against him, the way it was now, but closer. Always closer. Eternally so.

The blonde wizard\'s hair flew back and Harry bit softly into the flesh of the neck presented before him as they both came. He knew they probably looked ridiculous, and that he\'d have to figure out a charm to clean himself later, but he didn\'t particularly care. Draco came and Harry could feel it, not just against his jeans but in the way Draco\'s body torqued completely, as if on display, letting Harry see him in his most vulnerable and blissful state.

\"Well,\" said Harry.

Draco grinned, pulled out his wand and cleaned them both. \"Yes,\" he agreed.

Harry grinned rogueishly. \"Lesson later tonight?\" he asked nonchalantly.

\"You bet,\" said Draco, grinning more slyly than Harry. He looked to both sides, then pulled in closer, kissing Harry tenderly, making his heady rush continue. Then he was gone, striding down the corridor, not giving a second glance back at Harry, knowing full well that the Boy Who Lived was checking him out.

Harry felt bewildered. And frightened. And spent.

He needed a shower.

He headed off to the common room, his mind foggy with Draco.

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